


Why Wait?

by sapphose



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: 5+1 Things, Episode: s03e02 The Search Part II, Episode: s03e07 Civil Defense, Episode: s03e16 Prophet Motive, Episode: s03e20 Improbable Cause, Episode: s03e21 The Die Is Cast, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e21 The Die Is Cast, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: 5 times Julian Bashir wanted to kiss Elim Garak (and the one time that he did)
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 30
Kudos: 149





	Why Wait?

When Garak had asked Julian to model in a fitting for an absent customer, this was not what Julian had expected.

It wasn’t that he looked bad- in fact, if Julian were to be honest, he looked absolutely tremendous- but the whole thing did seem rather… well, shameless. The plunging v-neck was wide at his shoulders and went down to his naval, edged with some kind of glittering crystal or rhinestone. The sheer fabric of the billowing sleeves ended in tight gold cuffs.

“Who is this for?” he couldn’t help but ask, twisting around to get a better look in the mirror.

“Quark,” Garak answered from his stool, which only confused Julian more.

“But Quark and I aren’t at all the same size.” Julian’s long, lanky body was about as far from Quark as one could get.

“It’s a new uniform design,” Garak corrected him airily. “For a dabo boy. Apparently, Quark has finally realized that not all his customers are attracted to women.”

That certainly explained the amount of skin on display, and the shininess.

Julian rolled his shoulders in the mirror experimentally. It did look very good.

“Should I pretend to be a dabo boy?” he teased. “So you can get the full effect?”

“My dear doctor, I’m sure I don’t know how a dabo boy behaves.”

Julian grinned.

“Then I’ll show you.” He mimed spinning an enormous wheel and crowed, “Dabo!”

Garak sniffed, unimpressed.

“I can hardly believe Quark pays his employees good latinum to stand around and shout. It doesn't seem at all like a profitable business model.”

“They do other things, too.” Julian stepped closer to where Garak was sitting and adopted what he felt was a sympathetic tone. “Bad luck, sir, on that spin, but you can always try again. You never know when your luck will turn.” He placed a hand on Garak’s shoulder that might seem from the outside compassionate, and let his voice go low and breathy. “The greatest reward comes from the greatest risk.”

Julian trailed his hand down Garak’s arm and bent over, allowing Garak a direct look inside his shirt (not that the design left much to the imagination).

He had seen M’Pella go through this routine the other night with a Telurian whose neck frill flared at her touch, and who ended up losing another five rounds. Just when he had seemed on the verge of realizing the game was rigged and giving up, he had won, and M’Pella’s kiss on the cheek turned his frill brilliantly vermilion.

It would be so easy, Julian realized, to kiss Garak at this distance. How would his lips feel, or the ridges of his chin and nose? How did Cardassian skin change when aroused? What would Garak taste like?

“You should stick to medicine,” Garak said in a disapproving tone, and Julian realized he had been lost in his daydream. Blushing, he retreated back to the dressing room.

As he pulled off the shirt, he couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel if it were Garak’s hands lifting the hem instead. The thought lingered for the rest of the day.

* * *

_The Search, Part II_

Intellectually, Julian knew that what he had seen in the simulation was not real. Garak was alive, the Dominion was still limited to the Gamma Quadrant, the whole world hadn’t gone any more mad than it usually was.

And yet, the worry continued to gnaw in his stomach. He paced the length of the runabout, unable to be still, buzzing with questions and concerns until Kira threatened him with bodily harm if he didn’t sit down and stop making her nervous.

He sat, but he didn’t settle. He felt the fluttering fear inside even when they were back on the station and disembarked. The bustling Promenade looked exactly the same as it had in the simulation. How would any of them know if they had ever left?

Julian’s first stop should have been the infirmary, he _meant_ for it to be the infirmary, but his feet seemed to have a mind of their own and made a direct path to Garak’s Clothiers.

He burst in impulsively, interrupting Garak in the process of haggling with a Denobulan freighter captain.

Garak looked up and smiled pleasantly, as if Julian running into his shop after going missing in the Gamma Quadrant were an everyday occurrence.

“Ah, my dear doctor! Welcome back.”

It was Garak, in person and wondrously, gloriously alive.

Julian felt the urge to throw his arms around Garak and kiss him ferociously, to drown out the memory and fear and grief, to be alive together and not waste another second arguing fiercely about literature in the replimat when they could have been arguing fiercely in bed between bouts of vigorous lovemaking.

The Denobulan coughed.

It would be silly, Julian realized. Just because he felt this way about Garak didn’t mean that the feeling was mutual.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he mumbled, and backed out of the shop.

Garak didn’t ask Julian about it, when they next spoke at lunch. Julian couldn’t decide how he felt about that. It was kind of Garak, in a way, not to pry. But Julian almost longed for an opening. He had so much to say, if he could only find the right moment.

* * *

_Civil Defense_

“Doctor, what exactly is it about this situation that’s making you smile?”

“You, Garak. I wonder how many other tailors can rewrite Cardassian security protocols?”

It was an absurd time to be smiling. They were in grave danger, Jadzia was injured, they had no idea what was happening in the rest of the station… The circumstances could hardly have been more grim.

Yet Garak still had a way of making Julian smile. The way he had confidently waltzed into Ops as if nothing was wrong, the self-deprecating lies that he must have known for a second couldn’t be believed, the sharp intelligence and keen skill that he only let show at the most advantageous moment. Julian was fascinated by all of it. He often felt that he could spend years learning about Garak, and it would never be enough.

The impulse to kiss him had no sense of proper time or place. Their first kiss should be somewhere romantic, not where Major Kira had fired a phaser into the life support system and Garak was frantically trying to convince a deranged computer malfunction that he was Gul Dukat. But Julian still couldn’t help entertaining the notion, imagining what it might feel like for once to take Garak totally by surprise.

To grab that hand typing away and kiss tenderly at his palm, his fingers, his wrists.

To push him into the console and kiss him until he was gasping and breathless.

To make a stand, and damn the consequences.

Julian shouldn’t. He couldn’t. But oh, how he _wanted_ to.

He was distracted, of course, when the replicator started shooting.

* * *

_Prophet Motive_

The next time Julian had the urge to kiss Garak, the man in question wasn’t even present.

Julian was out with Miles, having drinks at Quark’s. It had begun with darts, but ultimately devolved. They weren’t singing, not yet, but “Jerusalem” was lurking in the back of their throats, waiting for the opportunity to burst forth. Miles looked ruddier than ever, and Julian’s gracelessly expansive gestures were beginning to put the customers at neighboring tables at risk.

More alcohol, obviously, was called for. Julian eagerly rose to the challenge and made his way back to the bar, a hum burbling in his throat.

He hadn't planned on eavesdropping, hadn’t even noticed that Jadzia and Kira were sitting on the upper level until his genetically advantaged ears picked up the sound of his own name, and he couldn’t resist.

“… Julian’s a big boy,” Jadzia was insisting. “Even if Garak is hitting on him, Julian can take care of himself.”

“That’s my problem,” Kira argued. Julian didn’t know whether to be grateful or regretful that she was making no attempt to modulate her volume. “If he sleeps with a Cardassian, there will be a Bajoran mob ready to run him off the station. I might even join them! It’s bad enough having to watch them arguing over lunch every single week.”

Jadzia’s next remark was lost in the raised cheer of "dabo!", but Julian caught Kira’s reply.

“No, what’s the point? He acts like the Occupation was ancient history. If he tries to bring Garak to Sisko’s dinner I’m going to be sick…”

The conversation continued, but Julian had heard enough. Ears burning, he rushed back to Miles.

Run him off the station, indeed! Julian would show her- he’d not just bring Garak to Sisko’s dinner, he’d- he’d-

He’d go ahead and sleep with Garak, that’s what he’d do! He’d go to the habitat ring right now and that would teach Kira to mind her own business about who he spent his time with, wouldn’t it? She had no right to judge him, none at all.

The next morning, when Julian woke up wincing and heartily hungover, he could only be grateful that he had not followed through on the impulse. Drunk, and to spite Major Kira, was not the way he wanted to start something with Garak. Such a beginning would be doomed to quickly end.

* * *

_Improbable Cause_

Julian’s mind was full of Garak and Delavian chocolates when he returned to the infirmary after lunch, only to be swept into a whirlwind consisting of Ensign Vilix’pran’s twins, three suspected cases of Bajoran flu, two Nausicaans accompanied by four security officers who seemed quite ready to break several more of each other’s bones if given the chance, and Keiko O’Brien, whose latest botanical experiment had resulted in an unfamiliar and quite puzzling rash.

By the time the chaos settled, hours had passed. Julian ducked into his office for a second of quiet away from the fray, knowing that he still would have to do the charting for each of the visits.

He was startled to see the packet on his desk, the memorable silver square and diamond symbol used by the best confectioner in the sector.

Garak had brought the Delavian chocolates for him after all. But when? Julian had left the lunch table before Garak, and would have seen had he come into the infirmary.

Questioning the nurses produced no results. None of them had seen Garak enter or exit- in fact, they were surprised to be asked, since Garak made a tremendous fuss about coming to the infirmary and never did so unless the situation was dire.

As far as Julian could tell, the man had simply made himself temporarily invisible. All the skills and training of a professional spy, and he used it to bring chocolates to his doctor.

It made Julian smile so widely his cheeks ached. It felt like having a secret admirer. (Not so secret, since he had mentioned Garak to all the nurses, but still.)

This was a romantic gesture, wasn’t it? It seemed like more than one would do for a friend, and their arguments were often flirtatious in a way that Julian suspected cut across cultural lines.

It would only be good manners, to thank Garak properly. And Julian had a perfect response in mind.

When he handed the chocolates back to Garak, Julian kept the kiss to himself, as a promise for what he would do when Garak and Odo were safely returned.

* * *

_The Die is Cast_

“Was that Odo I saw leaving?”

“Yes, Doctor.” Garak offered no further explanation. What had happened between him and Odo was private by necessity, and Bashir (while beautiful, passionate, charming, intelligent, etc.) was hardly the soul of discretion.

Bashir shuffled his feet through the rubble, coming closer. Garak almost wished he wouldn’t. It would only be more of the same, of implication and patience and dancing just out of each other’s reach. Garak felt too tired for that game today.

He had done enough waiting. Waiting for the chance to prove himself, the opportunity to return, only to have it snatched away. Waiting for Tain’s forgiveness, for approval and love that would never come.

“If there’s anything I can do to help…” Bashir trailed off uncertainly.

Garak waited for a moment, to see if the sentence would be finished. It wasn’t.

Bashir’s character continued to interest Garak immensely. He was brash and bold and brave, prone to a degree of over-confidence. Simultaneously, he seemed to lack a certain amount of follow-through. One question missed, costing him the honor of valedictorian. A tennis tournament with victory certain, lost at the last minute by a clumsy stroke. Garak had studied Bashir’s file and history, looking for the answer, and it seemed to come down to nerves, or a weakening of determination under pressure.

Garak understood pressure.

Now Tain was gone. There was no one watching. In the ruin of what had once been a shop there was only Garak and Bashir, the one who had forgiven him and fought for him and even now was trying to be at his side.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion, weakening Garak’s self-control. Or perhaps he felt more clear-headed then ever.

Either way, he reached out, placed both hands on the human waist.

Leaned in.

And kissed.

The reaction was immediate. Bashir’s arms flung around his neck, body pressed against his, urgent and insistent and radiating heat.

When Bashir pulled his head back, Garak reveled in the sight of pinked cheeks and swollen lips still slightly parted.

“I wanted to do that first,” the doctor admitted with a sheepish smile.

“My dear, I grew tired of waiting.”

Bashir blinked for a moment, as if surprised that Garak had already known, then opened his mouth wider to laugh. Garak drank in the sound of that laugh.

“We’ll just have to make up for the lost time.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested in seeing more of Julian not only dressed as a dabo boy but actually employed as one, check out my Terok Nor AU series! Featuring Julian in exile from the Federation after being discovered as genetically engineered in medical school. He gets involved with the politics of the Bajoran Occupation, as well as some familiar faces.  
> Plus, the uniform described in this fic and that series has now been illustrated! Check it out; https://evstrrratt.tumblr.com/post/642131195539456000/im-very-slowly-proceeding-with-garashir-prompt


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